LITMIR.BIZ

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066139766

Table of Contents

       CHAPTER I.

       CHAPTER II.

       CHAPTER III.

       CHAPTER IV.

       CHAPTER V.

       CHAPTER VI.

       CHAPTER VII.

       CHAPTER VIII.

       CHAPTER IX.

       CHAPTER X.

       CHAPTER XI.

       INTERLUDE.

       CHAPTER XII.

       CHAPTER XIII.

       POSTLUDE.

CHAPTER I.

       Table of Contents

      “Philosophers Deride, Fools Investigate.”

      PROPHET AND PROFIT.

      “But my profession,” pleaded the slim and pallid youth who stood wistfully eyeing the Soda Fountain. “You forget, my friend, that the vows of a Guru forbid such diffusion of force and waste of magnetism as occur in meeting those not of The Path.”

      “Tommy-rot!” bawled young Mr. Vanderhook as he continued to polish the already glittering faucet. “You’ve not seen her, and you hear me, there is only one in the box and what’s more she can give cards and spades to any old band of mystical misfits on the top side the Earth.”

      “But my profession, William, the obligations of One—Who—Aspires—To—Know are—are—simply immense, and in my profession—”

      “O, hang your profession—a couple of minutes anyway,” interrupted the man at the fountain, “and come along. You’re not going to shake Kankakee till you’ve seen my Very Best—the finest Chicago brand, the highest flyer this side your celestial belt. What d’ye say, and what’ll you have?” and Bill Vanderhook looked anxiously into the other’s face while his hand sought the “sweet cream” spigot.

      “And if I consent,” finally murmured the Occultist, now toying mechanically with the long handled spoon, “If I consent,” he repeated in a weird monotone—his eyes following the process of a Lowball—“and look upon WOMAN—should I look upon her you would call your own, remember, Bill, that you assume my responsibility, and that upon your head will rest the consequences of my mad act. Upon you must descend the penalties of my violation of the First Degree.”

      “I’ll go you,” recklessly responded the young druggist, as he shoved the frothing fluid across the marble slab—“only let’s get a move.”

      Alonzo Leffingwell’s right hand closed vaguely but firmly upon the handle of the drinking-cup. With an air of utter indifference he poured the questionable compound into his system. Then his left hand sought his vest pocket—tentatively.

      The Vanderhook drug store once more stood the treat.

      Since infancy these two young men had been inseparable chums. The law of opposites had been satisfied. It had attracted and welded the affections of the stout, stocky, rosy and roystering Bill Vanderhook and the pale, pensive and passive Alonzo Leffingwell.

      Bill’s voice in babyhood was loud, resonant and cheerful, while Lonnie’s was low, limpid and languid. In youth Bill’s eyes, big, bold and black, had seemed continually searching for the hidden and forbidden things of fruit closet and melon patch. Contrawise, Lonnie’s orbs, mild, misty and luminous, seemed forever scanning the unsatisfying deeps of space.

      While nature seemed to have constructed Bill Vanderhook for a short-stop or a half-back, it had reserved Alonzo Leffingwell for the higher arts of mystical mysteries.

      On attaining his majority Bill consulted with his father and accepted a partnership in the paternal pharmacy. Alonzo consulted with himself, determined upon mysticism and cut loose from parental guidance. Upon this he resigned, as humorist of the Daily Clarion, and set out upon the path of wisdom.

      About the same time that Bill turned from bats to bottles and gave up the kicking of balls for the rolling of pills, Alonzo laid down his pen, took up his crystal and immured himself in his bedroom.

      Naturally, the exactions of these widely differing occupations tended more and more to separate the two young men.

      To Bill Vanderhook it meant an active daily life and a perpetual hustle in holding his father’s trade and reaching out for the increase. It meant for him a frequent dip in the social swim, and great popularity among those who attended “functions” and presided at Chafing Dishes.

      To Alonzo, his decision to become a “Wise Man” cut him out of pretty nearly everything in the town. It meant renunciation of all social and sentimental diversions of Kankakee. While upon the Druggist were fixed the obligations of citizenship which rooted him in his ancestral home, to the Mystic it meant only obscuration and retirement.

      While Bill was now joyously “taking stock” and setting up new show cases, Mr. Leffingwell, in obedience to his “Higher Self,” was packing his grip for India.

      For he who aspires to the state of Gnanum must seek a more adequate asylum than that of Kankakee.

      Alonzo was now well up in Yogum.

      He approached Gnanum.

      He apprehended the ALL.

      Against all this Bill had violently protested. “Cut out this foolishness, and get the bats out of your belfry. Come,” he implored, “and clerk for me. This is the Leader in Kankakee, and when you learn the business I’ll make you my Pardner. Now what’s the matter with THAT?”

      “Pouf! Piff! PELF!”—and Alonzo had shuddered as he thus expressed in a musical crescendo his repulsion for trade. At the mere mention of the Drug Store, or the Stock, this Prophet’s apprentice might have been seen to curl his mustache with disdain.

      He

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